


Blackhawke Down

by SidheLives



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, F/M, First Meetings, Large Cock, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Propositions, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, because apparently I can't not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 06:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: Marian has arrived at Skyhold and finds herself longing fo some companionship.Bearded companionship.Written for Smutquisition 2021
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Hawke (Dragon Age)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Blackhawke Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyNomsDePlume (Extra_Pickles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra_Pickles/gifts).



> Sorry about the title. It started as a joke which became a working title but then I got attached to it.

Marian leaned on the balustrade, mountain wind rustling her fringe as she gazed down into the training yard. The sounds of metal crashing against metal, blades striking wood and straw, and the heaving breaths of exertion drifted up to her, muffled by distance. Behind her, someone chuckled, and a grin turned her lips as Varric appeared at her side to join her observation.

"What are you shopping for?" He raised a brow at her.

"I'm just browsing," she replied, sparing him a quick glance.

He chuckled again, propping his elbows on the stone beside hers. "If you're considering the tall grey fellow with horns I can tell you he'd definitely be interested."

Marian's nose wrinkled. "Reminds me too much of Kirkwall."

"I suppose that's fair."

She inclined her head toward a woman below them who was demolishing a training dummy with powerful swings of her sword. "Is that your Seeker?"

"That's her alright," Varric grumbled.

Marian wiggled her eyebrows at him. "She's pretty."

Varric scoffed. "You're welcome to try."

"Oh, I'd hate to intrude," she smirked. "How long did she hold you captive in my house again? Three days?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he laughed. "She hates my guts."

"You know what they say about the fine line between hate and love. In my experience, hate and lust are even closer." She bumped him with her hip.

He chuckled. "I thought we were shopping for you."

"Oh, that's right." Marian returned to her perusal of the yard below. "Who's the hairy one?"

Varric followed her eyes to the sparring man. "That's Blackwall. _Warden_ Blackwall."

"A Warden?" Marian grinned mischievously. "I do have a fine rapport with the Grey Wardens."

"Speaking of: you still have that thing going with Stroud?"

Marian waved dismissively. "Stroud shmoud. Look at that beard! There's no comparison."

Varric snickered. "Trading up your Warden bedfellow? That's cold, Hawke."

She shrugged. "I need to broaden my horizons. I know he'll understand."

The disapproving shake of Varric's head was undercut somewhat by the smirk curling his lip. "I don't know if he'll go for it. He's got this whole noble persona thing going on."

Below them, Blackwall saluted the other combatants and started to drag himself towards the stables.

Marian watched him with hungry eyes. "The nobler they act the harder they fall." She pushed away from the balustrade and winked at Varric. "Just ask Sebastian."

Varric laughed heartily as Marian started away. "Where are you going?"

She turned on her heel to face him as she continued walking backward toward the stairs. "If I know my burly warrior types he'll be heading for a drink as soon as he scrapes the sweat off. I intend to be waiting."

"Best of luck!" Varric called after her.

"Come on, you know I don't need luck," she winked again, spinning back around and waving over her shoulder. "I'll take notes for you. Don't want your readers to miss out on any of my exploits."

*

As Marian had suspected, Blackwall sauntered into the tavern before too long. She swirled the ale in her mug as she watched him order a tankard and settle into an empty table along the edge of the room. He looked dour, but she wondered if perhaps that was just the natural state of his expression as he waved warmly to those who said hello to him and appeared generally relaxed in his chair.

Tossing back the last of her drink, Marian pushed away from the stool where she had perched during her wait, and slunk to his table, taking the seat opposite him.

His brows raised. "Afternoon, ma'am." He nodded graciously, accepting her appearance with little applaud.

 _A good start._ She thought.

"I was watching you in the training yard," she began conversationally. "You have fine form."

"Kind of you to say." He squinted as if trying to place her face. "Don't believe we've been introduced, Miss…?

Marian smirked. "Marian Hawke. Champion of Kirkwall."

Blackwall choked on his ale and hastily dragged a sleeve across his beard. "Begging your pardon, Champion."

She waved off his reaction. "Call me Marian, or Hawke if you prefer, everyone else seems to."

"Alright… Hawke," he assented diffidently. "It's truly an honor to meet you."

"Oh, I assure you the pleasure is _mine_." Marian smirked, looking him up and down.

He chuckled. "Said like a woman who's never had the pleasure." He took a drink and Marian found her eyes drawn to the small droplets of ale that clung to his beard. She had a sudden flash of desire to lap them up like nectar before his sleeve wiped them away and he cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to Skyhold?"

"Visiting an old friend. Though I've found I've developed a keen interest in making new ones," she offered suggestively, curling her lips into a haughty smirk.

Blackwall nodded obliviously. "There's plenty of good folks about the Inquisition. Certainly a lot who would make for fine fellows."

Marian ran her tongue over her bottom lip, swallowing her exasperation. "I was more interested in _bed_ fellows, and I already have a candidate in mind." She raised a single eyebrow, all attempts at subtlety abandoned.

He stared at her over the rim of his tankard, brows drawn low in confusion for a lingering moment before they shot back up and he once again sputtered into his drink. "Oh." He recovered, realization settling into his eyes. "Oh, I… well, that's very…" he stammered, gaze moving over her heated expression, searching in vain for a response. "Shall I buy you a drink?"

Marian leaned her elbows on the table, voice dropping lower. "Buy me a bottle that we can share somewhere more _private_."

Blackwall's tongue stalled and Marian watched with interest as he seemed to frantically consider her proposal, eyebrows twitching in thought and eyes wandering down her body. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs at the ankle to better display her offer in full. As his attention returned to her face he seemed to reach some kind of decision and gave a curt nod. "I'll speak to Cabot."

Marian didn't know who Cabot was, but she returned the nod with a satisfied smile and watched him head to the bar. It was a pleasant view, he looked good from behind as well. She watched as the dwarf behind the bar handed him a bottle of wine, and slid a shot glass full of amber liquid across the worn wooden bar. _Liquid courage_. She took the wild guess that the man didn't get propositioned very often.

Bottle in hand he returned, and with a jerk of his head indicated the door. Marian popped out of her seat to follow him. "Varric tells me you're a Grey Warden," she said casually as they walked. It was clear from his slightly curled shoulders and fidgeting hands that he would not begin conversation on his own.

"Yes, that's right," he responded with a nod, chin lifting slightly, seemingly glad for the easy topic.

"Are you familiar with Warden Stroud? Or perhaps Warden Bethany Hawke?" 

He raised a brow. "Relation of yours?"

She nodded. "My sister. Last I heard she was in Fereldan."

"I haven't met either of them, I'm afraid. I've spent most of the recent history on my own, doing recruitment."

"That sounds like it could be interesting. You get to travel and meet lots of interesting people." She smirked.

He chuckled. "Plenty of travel, that is true."

He had a nice smile, the way his eyes creased and his head tipped back as his lips pulled up. He had a face she could grow attached to, if she stayed in one place long enough to let it happen.

"Here we are," Blackwall announced.

Marian looked up at the wooden building and gave a little snort. "You live in the stables?"

"Hey now. I live _above_ the stables. That's quite a difference." His tone was defensive, but she could see laughter in his eyes.

"My deepest apologies," she gave a mocking bow of humility. "Are you going to give me a tour?" Her tongue snaked along the tips of her top teeth, mind returning to more immediate desires.

He led the way up a set of stairs to the loft where saw his armor and weapons laid out on a table, which she assumed he had dragged up himself, and a makeshift bed constructed of many blankets stacked stop baled hay.

She'd had illicit encounters in less appealing places to be sure. Marian suppressed a shudder recalling the stinking, sticky back halls of the Hanged Man where she and Isabela would slip off to after a night of heavy drinking. Blackwall's loft was makeshift but homey, cozy in a surprisingly soft way for a man so clearly trained by militaristic nature.

"Well, this is it. Not much of a tour, I'm afraid." He turned toward her, bottle held out. "Shall I open this or—"

Marian pounced, interest in anything but getting her hands on him disregarded. Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck and she pressed her lips to his open mouth zealously, tongue probing and exploring his mouth as he quickly fell into step, free hand taking hold of the small of her back and pulling her body closer. He kissed her back with the skill of someone with years of practice and the enthusiasm of a man deprived of the pleasure of such exercise for far too long. Between their closely locked hips she felt the rising tide of his desire, and his fingers made their way under her jerkin to touch bare skin. She caught his bottom lip gently between her teeth, and was rewarded with a very pleasant muffled sigh followed by Blackwall's hand sliding down her back, fingers edging into the waistband of her pants.

Marian plucked wine from his hand, lips breaking away from his with a lingering pop, and used her teeth to remove the cork, spitting it across the loft. She didn't release his hair as she drank deeply from the bottle, feeling his eyes, grown warm with appetite, on her the whole time. She licked her lips of the bitter, rich, red fluid and thrust the bottle back into his hand with a heated smirk. With a matching expression, he accepted it and followed suit, throwing his head back to drink, simultaneously offering Marian his throat which she fell on with a fury. Lips and teeth teased his skin and she felt him shudder under her touch, the bottle hit the wooden floor with a thud and he caught her chin in his hand, bringing their mouths back together in a merlot flavored kiss.

She felt hot, too hot for the numerous layers of clothing and armor she wore. Finally releasing Blackwall's hair she pulled at the catches of her leather armor, ripping bracers from her wrists and jerkin off over her head. Without a word, Blackwall followed suit, his cotton shirt discarded much more easily than her armor. Marian's eyes caught on the chiseled muscles of his chest and stomach and her hands stalled in their undressing. She stared, mouth hanging wantonly open. He was sculpted like marble, more finely constructed than she would have dreamed, and crisscrossed with decades of scars worn into his flesh like the ravages of time on an exquisite granite statue. As opposed to detracting from the majesty of his form, they only acted to heighten it, speaking to years of survival and power.

She needed to touch him. 

Her own disrobing forgotten, Marian slid her hands over his muscles, shivering at the taut strength coiled within them, feeling the slick scars, some invisible to the eye with age, alongside burning hot skin.

"You seem impressed," Blackwall's voice was low, strained with want, but still teasing.

"I'm more impressed with what you could do with them." Marian tore her eyes from his stomach to give him a smirk, trailing featherlight caresses down his arms, which she noted were very nearly as impressive as his core.

Something flashed in his eyes, an acknowledgment of a challenge he intended to conquer. He plucked at her silk undershirt with two fingers. "Tit for tat."

She snickered. "I'll warn you, my scars aren't as imposing as yours. Consider them in progress."

"I don't intend to focus on your scars." The low rumble of his voice and the intensity in his eyes redoubled the heat radiating from Marian's skin. She whipped her shirt off it's a flash, tousling her hair into her eyes so she couldn't see Blackwall's immediate reaction, but she felt it: rough, calloused hands caressing up her ribs, tracing over scars much younger than his own, to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing firmly over her stiffening nipples. She inhaled sharply, tossing her head back to clear her eyes. Blackwall's beard tickled at her sternum as he pressed hot, hungry kisses to her neck, fingers working the sensitive flesh of her breasts drawing short low sounds of pleasure from her throat.

Marian's hands were on him again, feeling the plains and valleys stretching from his sternum down. The waistband of his trousers proved only a momentary detour, deft fingers quickly doing away with the obstacle and allowing access to lower regions. Blackwall hissed against the skin of her neck as Marian caressed the velvet soft skin of his cock, then wrapped her hand firmly around him. She shuddered and saliva flooded her mouth. Like the rest of him, Blackwall's cock was arresting in its unexpected size, girth such that her fingers and thumb could not meet around it. Her hips hitched involuntarily, rubbing herself against him and she could feel her small clothes soaking through with her want.

His lips found hers again as she squeezed, a deep groan of pleasure vibrating her teeth. She caressed her unoccupied hand down his following it with her tongue as she got down on her knees. Blackwall's breathing was ragged as he looked down at her, awe fighting with carnal desire in his gaze. Marian took great pleasure in watching the struggle as she slowly flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock. His eyes rolled to white at the teasing touch, then his head fell back in a moan as she took him into her mouth.

He was so large Marian's jaw ached from the size of him, but she swallowed him further into her mouth, shallow breaths from her nostrils tickling sensitive flesh. Blackwall's hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling into her dark hair and she rolled her eyes up to meet his, finding that animalistic lust had won the raging battle for his expression. The way he looked at her, the feel of his exquisite cock in her mouth, nearly brushing her throat and still more to take, and the gentle pressure she felt him applying on her head, it was almost more than Marian could handle. She let him direct her, somehow pulling more of his length into her mouth, swallowing around him as his tip brushed the back of her throat. He moaned again and she couldn't stand it. Even as she began a slow rhythm, straining jaw working up and down his length, her hand found the catches of her trousers and she plunged fingers between her legs. She gently rubbed her clit, fingers and tongue finding a matching pace. The simultaneous stimulation poured pleasure through her, moans spilling out from around his cock, as some well deep inside her began to fill.

Blackwall's hand tightened in her hair, wrenching his cock from her grasping lips. Marian whined, though her jaw was grateful for the reprieve. She would gladly die choking on his length and she looked up pleadingly, but he still directed her up. She assented, removing her hand from between her legs to climb up his body, knees gone loose. He caught her around the waist and pulled her close, dragging his tongue up her neck.

"I want you," he growled into her ear, hips grinding against her.

Marian was almost undone by the words. She shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into him. "Then take me." Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered.

His arm tightened around her waist and she found herself lifted off the ground as if she weighed nothing, then one of the stable's sturdy support beams was against her back and Blackwall's mouth caught one of her nipples. She gasped, neck arching back against the hard wood, kicking at the heels of her boots until they thumped, one and then the other, to the floor. She went for her waistband, but Blackwall's lips tightened on her breast, sucking sharply, and all the strength in her arms dissolved into her moan. He appeared to have noticed her struggle, however and chuckled as his tongue lapped over her, the arm not holding her up taking a firm grip on the leather and tugging down. Finally free of the constrictive garments, Marian was able to kick them off her ankles to pool on the ground below her. The instant they were gone her legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his ass and pulling him into her. She could feel his length against her, hot and hard, but not where she wanted it and she mewled, grinding herself against him.

Blackwall pried one of her knees from his side, hefting it instead over his elbow to spread her wide. Then his tip was teasing into her and she caught his shoulders, fingers digging into his bare skin, needing something solid to hold and fight back the tremors which were creeping through her. Still, he did not advance, rolling his hips to continue the torturous agony of anticipation.

"Take me," she whined. "For the love all that is holy, fuck me."

He pressed himself into her, moving agonizingly slowly, and Marian gasped for air, gulping through choked moans as she felt his girth stretch and fill her. Marian had fucked a great many men in her life, but Blackwall's cock caressed parts of her none of them had touched, none of them _could_ have. He groaned, his steady pace suddenly undone, hips thrusting into her hard enough that the force of his cock hitting her cervix made her shriek and writhe.

"Sorry," he managed between ragged breaths.

Her hands tightened on him, one becoming lost in his hair and she fixed him with eyes drowning in lust. "Do it again."

Him pulling out tore more gasping moans from her and she kissed him savagely to muffle them. He thrust again and she bit his lip, eyes rolling so far into her head she feared that she might never see again. Again and again he pushed into her, his movements painfully controlled, and each time it felt as though she would burst. Her lungs burned with jagged gasps and she felt herself rushing towards climax, then Blackwall's arm around her slipped and her white-knuckled grip on his shoulders was the only thing that prevented disaster.

He leaned harder into her, using the beam to steady his hold. "Arm's getting tired," he joked breathlessly.

Marian's laugh was hoarse. "Table. Behind you." She managed through dry lips.

He nodded, then readjusted his arm to lift her again and pivot, still sheathed inside her, to set her bare ass roughly on the table's edge. She cried out, the jostle adjusting his cock inside her, and laid back, knocking weapons and armor to the floor as she did. Blackwall moved her leg so that her ankle rested on his shoulder and took firm hold of her hips, and thrust into her again. Marian scrambled for something to cling to, landing on his wrists where they gripped her, her loose leg curling around his back again. Suddenly her release was overtaking her and her back arched up off the table as she screamed. The damn of pleasure in her core burst, flooding every part of her body with tingling and heat.

In a few blinding moments, it was over and she collapsed, head lolling to the side, vision bleary. "That was fucking incredible."

Blackwall gave a threadbare chuckle and kissed the inside of her calf, no longer fucking her, but also not pulling out, and she could feel how hard he still was. She pushed up to her elbows to see him better. "You didn't finish."

"I— well, it's… it's fine," he grumbled.

She frowned. "It's not fine with me."

He did pull out then, the sight of him erect and glistening making Marian's lungs seize, lust unabated. Blackwall looked sheepish, gently lowering her leg and rubbing his hands over her thighs. "I don't want to… hurt you."

Marian opened her mouth to protest, but something in his expression stalled her tongue. This was an old worry, folded into him over years. How many women had told him he was too large, that he had to stop, or worse things over his life to bore such hesitation into him? She sat up and caught his face between her hands, pressing a kiss full of longing onto his lips. His calloused hands caressed her back and she could feel his desire in that simple touch.

"You're not going to hurt me," she told him simply. "Not like that." She smirked encouragingly. "I _want_ to be fucked so hard I can't stand, and I _want_ you to come inside me."

His lips quirked in a soft smile. "That's— well, I can't say I don't appreciate that…" his voice trailed off, an unspoken 'but' hanging in the air.

There was something like shame in his eyes and Marian had a sudden inclination as to what the unsaid 'but' contained. "We could try something a little different," she offered, slipping onto her feet. She ran her hands down his chest again, unable to resist the opportunity, then turned and bent herself over the table, keeping her attention over her shoulder on him. "Maybe this is better?"

He seemed to stiffen, gazing down the length of her body, and nodded, swallowing hard. "I think that might do it." He took himself in hand, using one knee to nudge her legs further apart. Marian purred at the touch, shifting her hips back toward him in impatience. She wanted him inside her again as soon as possible. His tip pressed against her and she mewled, toes curling, her eyes on him begging for more, and he thrust himself into her nearly to the hilt. Marian's neck fell back, fingernails digging into the table's wooden top. "Yes!" She cried, hips pushing back against him. "More."

And more he gave her. With a growling moan, he began his controlled, rhythmic movements, accelerating until they were in sync with the wild pounding of her heart. But still, he didn't let himself go. Every thrust was managed, held back, never striking as hard or as deep as it could have. It was rolling ecstasy for Marian, but she could feel his hesitation in every touch, even his hands firmly holding her hips felt ready to release and flee at any moment.

"Blackwall," she moaned his name. "Stop holding back, ple—ease." Her voice broke. She looked back over her shoulder as he stalled and their eyes met. "I can take it, and I want to. All of it."

Maybe it was something in her eyes or the fact that she used his name, but his hands tightened on her, fingers digging indentations into her flesh and he thrust hard, fully sinking himself into her, touching her so deep she felt as though she couldn't breathe around it, and it felt incredible. He did it again and she went up on her toes, barking a cry of garbled pleasure, then a third pushed her over the edge again. Her orgasmic cry broke him, Blackwall's careful control thrown to the wind as he plunged into her, their hips meeting with wet slaps as her moans climbed in pitch the flood of her organism redoubling and refracting with every caress of his cock against her walls.

"Oh, Maker," he gasped, leaning over her to pump quick short thrusts into her deepest recesses. She felt the sudden twitch of his cock that signaled his release before the hot rush of him filled her, searing her from the inside with white-hot ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back again, back arching and a victorious scream ripped through her lungs as he spilled himself. She didn't think it would have been possible for her to hold _more_ than his cock, but she was proven wrong as he groaned and gave a final push, even more seed pouring into her. 

He sighed, a sound equal parts exhausted and contented, and collapsed onto her back. " _That_ was fucking incredible."

She laughed, the sound muffled by his body. "I don't think I can move my legs, and I've never felt better."

Blackwall guffawed and, groaning, pushed to his feet. "Can't have you decorating my work table all evening." He scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, turning her body so her face was against his chest, though she had very little time to enjoy the proximity before he deposited her upon the tidy mountain of blankets that made up his bed.

It was incredibly soft, much more comfortable than Marian would have guessed, and she nuzzled into it, scooching herself to make enough room for the man. He didn't lie down with her though, running his hand over the plane of her stomach and looking worried again. "You're sure I didn't—?"

"You were perfection," she cut him off, taking hold of the end of his beard and pulling him down so she could kiss him. "Best fuck I've ever had."

He seemed to puff up with pride, the concern burning off his expression.

"Now would you lie down? I can't focus with your cock right at eye height." She snickered cheekily, giving his flaccid length an appraising glance. Even spent it was impressive and she wondered idly how soft it would feel in her mouth, or how long it would stay soft once she got it there.

Blackwall guffawed, a shadow of a flush passing up his neck, and kicked his trousers all the way off before climbing onto the bed beside her. He pulled a blanket up to cover them to the waist, then relaxed, lacing his fingers behind his head. "So, what now?"

She glanced at him, a bemused grin on her face. "Now I'm going to lie here until morning at the very least, at which point I will be excruciatingly sore."

"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically.

She nudged his shoulder. "Stop apologizing. Besides, you can help me do stretches. _Vastly_ improve my recovery time." She raised her eyebrows suggestively and he chuckled.

"I more meant after this," he admitted sheepishly.

Marian considered, studying the way he intentionally wasn't looking at her as he awaited her response. She liked him. Obviously, the sex had been incredible, but more than that she found him charming and more caring than most people she had called friends over the preceding decade. "I'm in no rush to go anywhere right this minute. Depends on the Inquisitor really. I'd like to stick around, make those friends I talked about."

He did look at her then, and the dopey smile he graced her with solidified the decision. "Great people here in Skyhold."

She found her expression mirroring his. "So I'm discovering."


End file.
